


120 BPM

by suntansatan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Doctor Castiel, Firefighter Dean, Hand Jobs, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Kink, i guess?, lil bit of d/s undertones if ya squint, mild physical trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 00:58:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3402578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suntansatan/pseuds/suntansatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is in the hospital for a physical trauma. But, lucky for him, his doctor is a complete hottie. No one can really blame him for needing to relive the tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	120 BPM

**Author's Note:**

> Written for thursdaycastiel on tumbr. (domain: castielspanties.co.vu) Her prompt was hurt/comfort destiel- Dean is in the hospital and receives Castiel as his doctor. Dean gets caught masturbating and Cas finishes the job.  
> We're kind of both trash for this.

Dean slept through the ride to the hospital, the reconstructive surgery, and two more days after that.  
When he came to, his throat felt thick and dry, and he coughed- the action reverberated around his body and made him acutely aware of how sore he was. Everywhere. He blinked open sleep-laden green eyes, finding a white walled hospital room. There were fluorescents on overhead, and it was dark outside from what he could tell from the single window.  
But being awake meant getting the hell out of there, because Dean was most certainly not one for hospitals. Usually whenever he got hurt he just dealt with it by himself. He pulled back the covers and blanched- his entire left leg was bandaged up tightly- so tight that he couldn’t bend it anywhere but where it met his pelvis. Pain was the next thing that assaulted his senses- right after he attempted to shift out of the bed.  
“Ah- Jesus fuck-”  
“Mr. Winchester?” Dean turned his grimace towards the voice that seemed to be coming from the doorway. A man in a trench coat- no, a doctor’s white jacket- was crossing the room hurriedly, as the heavy wooden door swung shut behind him.  
“I’m Dr. Castiel Novak. You shouldn’t be moving. I thought the anesthetic had at least a few more hours in you.” He was handsome (oh no) and had eyes so piercing that Dean felt physically pinned back down to the bed. “Do you feel any pain? You’re on a morphine drip but I can up your dose.”  
“Yeah. It… Burns. What happened?” Dean asked ineloquently, voice rough, far more gravelly than it usually was. It almost matched the Grand-Canyon-deep pitch of the doctor’s.  
“Mm. Sometimes that happens when patients are out for a few days like you were. Just think for a second. What’s the last thing you remember before you woke up here?”  
His voice was patient, soft despite its depth.  
Dean ached to impress.  
“I, uh…I was en route to a fire on Sierra and Kendrick… I remember being in the house but the- the second story landing crumbled. I remember falling through it and then it kinda gets fuzzy.”  
“Good, good.” The praise had Dean looking away from those intense blue eyes, even flushing faintly. “At least you don’t have any memory loss. Okay. I’ll just give you the run down.  
When you fell, your pant leg became caught on a metal rod and tore the fabric and your lower thigh open. You barely missed your femoral artery. But when you landed you completely shattered the patella and broke the femur of your right leg. You’re lucky you didn’t have worse. Aside from some bruising on your torso, a concussion, and a few burns, you’re okey-dokey.”  
Dean was momentarily distracted by the usage of the phrase “okey-dokey”, eyebrows twitching together, before he looked down at his leg again.  
“So…. What did you do?”  
“Mr. Winchester… We don’t have to talk about that now. You should still be resting, and-“  
Dean interjected. “Dr. Novak. I’m a big boy, lay it on me.” Or lay on me.  
“Well, another doctor suggested amputation,” the patient looked at him with wide eyes, “but I had a feeling you might not like that. So we went the harder way and I replaced your kneecap with a fully-functional metal one. Set your femur. Treated your burns.”  
“What’s the catch?”  
“You’re going to have to relearn how to walk.”  
Dean swallowed thickly, looked down at himself, and gave a short nod. Vaguely in the background he could hear the engine-rumble of Dr. Novak’s voice telling him it would only be a few months of physical therapy, don’t worry, I know a guy, you’ll do fine.  
He didn’t come out of his thoughts until a warm hand enclosed his own. Well, mostly. The doctor’s hands were smaller and as soft as butter. Dean’s own were calloused.  
“Dean- may I call you that? Stop looking so concerned. You seem like a quick learner, right? This all just depends on you and your body. Just take it one step at a time.”  
Don’t do it. Don’t laugh.  
Though it hurt his ribs, he did, the sound of his laughter like church bells ringing. The other man faltered, looking confused, an awkward smile crossing his face. It only made him look all the more cute.  
“You said…. One step at a time… Step…” Dean snorted, feeling oddly careless about how pitiful he probably seemed, all broken and vulnerable. Amused by a horrible pun.  
But the other male saved him with his own little chuckle, seemingly more due to Dean than himself.  
“My apologies. I tend to miss most jokes of that caliber.”  
They talked for a while longer, about this and that, recovery and family. Castiel had a litany of siblings, Dean only had one; Castiel grew up rich, Dean grew up poor; Castiel had gone to college, Dean had a GED. They were very much opposite, but got along rather well. It had neared 10 o’clock when Castiel realized the time and sat up off of Dean’s hospital bed.  
“I have a few other patients to check on. You should get some sleep, Dean. If anything hurts too badly, just press that button right there. Yes, that one. Good night.” Castiel gave him a little smile and shut the door behind him, leaving Dean in the stiff sheets with a stupid, dorky smile on his face. 

He made sure to wait until the hospital fell as silent as a hospital can be. The lights were very dim, only a little fluorescent one on overhead. An emergency light.  
Biting his lip, he eased his hand under the starchy covers, pushing the hospital gown up a ways. Normally he would’ve been put off by it, but any hospital clothing other than that would’ve been in contact with his leg, which probably wouldn’t have felt too nice.  
But that sure felt nice.  
Dean fisted the base of his cock, giving it an experimental squeeze. His dick had started taking an interest in things the moment Dr. Novak had started speaking, and it only got worse when the reassuring and comforting began. He couldn’t help it. He liked being taken care of, and it only made things worse that Castiel was so attractive.  
Slowly, he began working it, squeezing out a few drops of precum and using it to lube himself up. Everything else melted away as he pumped his cock in his hand, rolling his thumb over the slit and twisting his wrist.  
It was so easy to imagine that he was thrusting into Castiel, that the tunnel of his hand was actually Cas’s ass. But it would probably feel so much better if he was in Cas, making him moan and writhe and call his name…  
His breath was coming short by then, shifting restlessly on the bed as he jerked off. Dean was usually pretty loud, the type to let the sounds of ecstasy out, be vocal. But now he was running the risk of being in public, sort of, which was just too perilous.  
Dean bit back a whimper, his other hand fisting the sheets.  
“Mr. Winchester, are you-“  
The patient’s eyes flew open, lips parted. Castiel stuttered to a stop at his bedside, white coat fluttering around him. It was a little too big. He looked like he’d run all the way there. The darker haired man did nothing but stare, big blue eyes looking downright ridiculous with their new size. Ridiculous, yes, but adorable as well.  
“Your heart monitor….. When it went above 120 beats per minute, and you were supposed to be asleep, I thought…. I was notified to come to your room, I’m supposed to come when something could be wrong.” He finished eloquently, unmoving, staring at Dean’s lap. The sheet covered it, but there was a tent where Dean’s cock and now still hand was.  
“Heh. Yeah… Sorry, Cas. I didn’t even realize I was, uh, hooked up to one of these things.” Dean gestured to the machine beside him with his free hand- the screen showed his accelerated beating and let out a beep with each one. He hadn’t even noticed it.  
Castiel edged closer to him, then reached a hand out, turning down the sound on the monitor.  
Dean watched him with lust-blown green eyes, taking to biting his lip again. Then that soft hand was pulling the covers down more, exposing him, before replacing the patient’s hand with his own. He seemed completely enthralled to feel it twitch in his hand when he fully grasped it.  
“You are rather… Well endowed, Dean,” Castiel commented quietly as he settled in the chair he’d left at Dean’s bedside. He began to slowly pump his cock in his smooth hand, using the collected precum to slick the way. “What were you thinking about?”  
The firefighter was left breathless when that hand first curled around him, and paused a few moments in an attempt to gather himself before answering. “You.”  
“Me?”  
“You have a way with…. I don’t know. Turning people on at inappropriate times.”  
“I do?”  
“Yeah. Your sex-hair gives a guy enough ideas as it is without all the ‘you’re gonna be fine Dean’s and the ‘if I can do anything to make you feel better’s.”  
At this Castiel laughed and twisted his wrist at the head of Dean’s cock, making the latter moan and arch. He let out a pained curse- there was nothing he wanted more than to come already, but Cas was going so slow. Apparently that was enough to let Cas know that he could go faster, though, and he began to really work Dean, finding ease in it once he fell into a rhythm.  
“Fuck, there you go, Cas, just like that. Just like that- shit-“  
“I like listening to your heartbeat. Knowing how excited you are for me…” Dr. Novak glanced briefly to the monitor, which was struggling to keep up, then back to his patient. “I want you to come, Dean. I want you to come and I want you to imagine that you’re inside me, hitting my prostate, making me scream your name. Fuck, you’d make me feel so good…” Cas trailed off, eyes glassy with arousal, apparently imagining this all happening as he described it to Dean.  
And Dean, hell, Dean was beyond gone. Within moments he was swearing and panting Castiel’s name and arching clear off the bed. He painted Castiel’s hand and the hem of his hospital gown with cum, eyes wide but unseeing, mind lost in a haze of pleasure.  
As his heartrate slowly began to regulate, Dean caught his breath, sending a tired smile Castiel’s way.  
“You’re not half bad at handjobs, doctor.”  
“Just be happy your penis wasn’t injured in your fall, Dean.”  
“Were you injured in your fall?’  
“What fall?”  
“Your fall from Heaven.”  
“Go to sleep.”


End file.
